175th Hunger Games
by Anieliliwe
Summary: Sapphire is a Career tribute from District One in the 175th Hunger Games, in it to win it, volunteering because she's the best in the district. Sparrow is a thirteen year old, reaped because her family couldn't afford the Quarter Quell price. Twenty four want to win. Only one can.
1. Chapter 1: Sapphire

**Disclaimer: Like approximately 7 billion other people, I don't own the Hunger Games!**

**A/N: I know it's short and not the best, but here is the first chapter (if you can call it that):**

I guess I'm a weirdo for not wanting to participate in a bloody battle to the death between twenty-four children.

Not that I'd ever _say_ that, of course, because then I'd probably get my head cut off. No joke. Coach Diamond is a pretty intense guy- like, killing people when he's annoyed at them intense (he was in the Hunger Games once, too). So it's keep my mouth shut and stick with my chances in the Games, or face certain death. While neither is appealing, for the last eighteen years I've gone with the first choice and assumed I can kill twenty-three kids. Which I probably can; I am the Female Volunteer, the best fighter at my training center, designated tribute to represent District One, even with the Quarter Quell. But it seems despicable, especially when it comes to my best friend Calico, the Male Volunteer. I couldn't kill him, not with eighteen years of working side by side and the alliance we will have in the Games. But underneath my invincible attitude I know that there is only one victor.

I am a master at covering up my fear with strength. I've done it all my life. But with the Hunger Games staring me in the face, it's going to take a lot more than strength to keep my feelings hidden.


	2. Chapter 2: Sparrow

There's District Twelve, the poor district. There's the Seam, the poor part of the poor district. Then there's the Seam's poor people, the starving ones who hunt in the woods and have no money. These people are the poorest of the poorest of the poor.

Unfortunately, I fall into that category. Life is a constant struggle with hunger, I catch food by setting traps and occasionally killing small game with a crude spear, and my brother cooks it over a fire pit in our pathetic excuse for a backyard. I often go to school with no lunch and sit with my ten-year-old brother. Half the time, people give me weird glares. The other half don't even notice I'm there. Because in the Seam, people are poor, but they have a little money and a little food. We don't have anything.

Which is why I am doomed. This year is the Quarter Quell. The year where the Hunger Games are worse than usual (and that's saying something- considering twenty-three kids die in the normal Hunger Games), the year when the Capitol has to "remind us" of something about the war over a hundred fifty years ago, and about the Second Rebellion a hundred years ago. This year, we're supposed to remember that "war is costly to all". And every child from the ages 12 to 18 must donate money to the Capitol. The tributes will be picked from a pool of the lowest paying boys and girls.

You see, I don't have any money. My father and Will and I trade. We don't pay, so we couldn't pay the Capitol to not put my name in the reaping bowl. Most families, even in the Seam, could scrape up one or two gold coins per kid. Even though in my family, I'm the only one within the age range, we can't afford it. And who wants to give us money and risk their childrens' lives?

By the end of tomorrow, I will probably be a tribute.

* * *

There were two pieces of paper in the girls' bowl. I was somewhat relieved until I realized who the other probably was. Kaya Peregrine. And her brother Tommy was the one boy with his name in the bowl. My only friends. If I wasn't picked, they would both be in the Games. But then again, if I was picked, I would most likely die.

As bad a situation as I was in, I felt sorry for the Peregrines; they were probably going to lose at least one child to these Games, maybe both, maybe brutally murdered in the same instant and have the footage shown to the whole nation. It's hard to watch, especially for those who know the tributes. The Hunger Games aren't easy on anyone.

I was in a trance through the mayor's speech. I didn't hear a thing until the telltale clack of stilettos filled my ears. Marcie Flaffing walked onto the stage in her five inch heels, her explosion of blue curls looking almost comical in front of the sea of brown-haired children.

Marcie was the District Twelve escort from the Capitol, and I got a headache looking at her atrocious outfit. Frankly, I hated Marcie Flaffing, not just because of her crazy sense of style but because of the happy way she went about things during the reaping. And the annoying way she talked, with that thick Capitol accent, made me want to rip off the red manicured nails that were reaching into the giant glass bowl.

She swirled the two pieces of paper around with her fingertip, then pinched one closed and withdrew her hand from the bowl. The only sounds I could hear were my racing heart and the crisp crinkle as Marcie unfolded the paper in front of the microphone.

"Sparrow. Greene," she said sharply.

I closed my eyes.

"Well?" she snipped.

I pushed my way through the crowd and towards the stage, anger building up inside me. I don't know why it was anger, I had thought I would feel shock, hurt, sadness, but instead I felt a surge of hatred at the world.

Marcie grabbed my wrist as soon as I put my foot on the step, yanking me up. "Congratulations, Sparrow," she said excitedly, then hurried to the microphone.

"Now for the boys." She coughed. "Oh, um, _boy_."

By the time Marcie had read Tommy Peregrine's name, he was already halfway to us. Marcie rushed to the steps, pulled Tommy up, and then went back to the microphone.

"Our tributes, Sparrow Greene and Thompson Peregrine, shake hands," she said with a smile that was not returned by a single person in the square.

We shook hands. Our eyes met, and underneath Tommy's sadness, I sensed gratefulness. For what?

He glanced toward the thirteen-year-old section of the crowd, where I had been standing. I spotted Kaya, eyes wide and sparkling with tears. That was what. Without me, his sister would be up here too.

We were taken inside the Justice Building right next to the stage, and the Peacekeeper guards led us to separate rooms.

"You will have three minutes to visit with each of these people," my guard said gruffly. He closed the door.

The room was furnished with a single couch. I sat down on it.

A second later, the door opened and Kaya Peregrine walked in.

I managed a weak smile as she came over and hugged me.

"It could have been me," Kaya mumbled.

"It could have, but it wasn't," I said, sitting back. "It's me now. And me and Tommy can work together. Maybe he can win."

"It's District Twelve, Sparrow. We never win."

"Sometimes we do," I argued meekly, but it was only kind of true. We hadn't won for probably forty years.

Kaya's deep brown eyes were filled with tears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I told her. "I couldn't stand if you were in there, and him..."

The Peacekeeper opened the door and said, "Time to go."

Kaya got up. "I'm sorry, Sparrow. I- I don't-"

"I'll help him, Kaya. I'll try for him to win," I promised. And I intended to keep that promise.

She shot me one last fleeting glance as she was pulled out the door by the Peacekeeper.

I hugged my knees to myself and waited silently.

When the door opened again, my father and Will walked in. My brother ran to me and threw his arms around me.

"Sparrow," he said. "Sparrow, you can win."

I had my million doubts, but I kept them to myself for Will's sake.

"I mean if you try, if you really try, if you use your wits and your skills... Just make sure you use what you have. You're smart, and you can set those traps, and hunt, right? And as long as you just...please..."

He didn't seem to be able to finish, but I knew what he was trying to say.

I looked at my father, whose face was pained. I could tell he was thinking about my mother. Her horrible fits at the very end, driven insane by that deadly fever. How that insanity overcomes some tributes, and they're worst deaths to watch.

"I can't lose you, Sparrow," he said in a choked voice. I stood up and hugged him.

"I know, Dad. I'm sorry. I wish-" I wished so many things, I didn't know which one I had been about to say.

"It's okay," he said. But I knew it wasn't.

"Dad-Will-just be safe, okay? Don't worry about me, I-"

"Don't worry about you?!" Will nearly screamed. "Sparrow, how can we not worry?"

"What will happen will happen," I said. "There's nothing you can do about it. You don't even have to watch."

"You'll try though." Will looked determined.

"Of course I will. And Tommy will try too, so if it's not me, maybe it can be him."

"I want you to come home," he said.

I nodded as the Peacekeeper opened the door. I hugged my father and my brother again.

The Peacekeeper put a hand on Will's shoulder and dragged him out of my reach.

"Love you," I whispered.

**A/N: Comments? Suggestions? ****If you read this, please leave a short review, even a one word answer is greatly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3: Sapphire

Both glass bowls were completely full of small slips of paper. No one had bothered to pay; they all knew that East Region eighteen-year-olds volunteer every year. No one was scared that their children would be in the Hunger Games, because everyone in the ER was excited when it came around every year. And the tributes from District One were always from the East Region, the people who were the most excited. It worked out well here, even for those of us in the Games. Because we want to be. Well, most of us.

The escort, Xalia Vinnie, was nearly exploding with excitement. "Hello, District One!" she called into the microphone in a rallying voice that got her an answering cheer.

"As you all know, it is time to select one young man and woman," Xalia started, but she was interrupted by applause from the crowd. "One young man and woman for the honor of representing District One in the 175th Hunger Games!"

Her words were met with a deafening scream that threatened to burst my eardrums.

"Ladies first, as usual." Xalia plunged her pale green hand into the bowl and then lifted her arm in the air, clutching a piece of paper.

"Mimi Emerald."

"I volunteer," I called loudly, stepping out into the aisle. The crowd applauded as I walked briskly to the stage and up the steps.

"A volunteer!" exclaimed Xalia, tugging me in front of her microphone. "What's your name, dear?"

"Sapphire Colt," I said, trying to keep doubt and irritation out of my voice and sound strong like Coach Diamond told us to.

"Well congratulations, Sapphire!"

"Thank you," I said.

Next thing I knew, Calico's slim figure was pushing into the aisle and calling, "I volunteer as tribute!" His voice was overly fierce, way too loud. He walked to the stage with deliberate power in his step. To be honest, he looked stupid.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our second tribute! What's your name?"

"I'm Calico Armani," Calico practically yelled. I wanted to slap him.

"Our tributes, Sapphire Colt and Calico Armani! Shake hands!"

I clasped Calico's hand firmly. He nodded to me politely, like we hadn't known each other our whole lives, and then began to crush my hand.

"Seriously?" I muttered. I let go of his hand, but not before clawing it with my fingernails.

"Thank you!" Xalia called, waving to the crowd and guiding Calico and me into the marble Justice Building.

Xalia and the Peacekeepers led us through the Justice Building into individual rooms. The door slammed shut and I was alone in a room with a single red velvet couch positioned awkwardly in the center.

I sat down on it and waited. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps outside and the door opened back up to reveal my smiling parents looking salon-ified as usual.

"The time is finally here! I can't believe you've grown so much," my mother said proudly.

"What an honor this is," my father nodded. "Off to the Capitol! You're sure to be famous now!"

That was all they cared about. Fame and fortune, but not their daughter's life.

"We brought you some sweets from Mrs. Armani's shop," my mother said, pulling a paper bag from her tote. "As a sort of reward for all your hard work!"

My father nodded. I took a taffy from the bag and popped it into my mouth.

"We're so proud of you," my father nodded. "From the day you were born..."

I listened to my life story continue as my father nodded his way out the door with my mother's glossy bob bouncing behind him.

"I'm going to miss you, District One," I said to the empty room.

**A/N: I know it's kinda short. I was going to write more, but I decided to update now (for the first time in forever) rather than later. Anyway, please leave a comment if you read this- any and all input is very helpful!**


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